


Pride and Prejudice

by RoseMac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMac/pseuds/RoseMac
Summary: An exploration of the extreme sense of prejudice present within the wizarding world.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Oliver Wood/Original Character(s), Oliver Wood/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Pride and Prejudice

The dark-haired girl reclined on one of the hundred and forty-two staircases within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unbothered by there tendency to move, she found her attention drawn elsewhere. The poster that been tauntingly plastered across Diagon Alley was held tightly within her grips.

The figure on the poster laughed mockingly at her. With the waxy skin of a corpse stretched alarming tight across his sharp features with each twisted grin. Sirius Black had been tainted by the mania of Azkaban. The madness outside reflected the turmoil contained within.

Yet a sneering voice intruded the solitude she had found on the staircase, "Missing father dearest, I see. After his grand escape, perhaps a reunion may be possible?"

Draco Malfoy stood with all the regality of the typically pure-blooded bigot. Although his prejudice did not extend to the girl before him. Despite the lack of affection between the pair, the familiarity they shared assured her that comment lacked the cruelty it would have held for most.

"One can dream. After all these years, you may finally see me banished from your home," the young girl rebutted.

Draco smirked; the brief quirk of his lips lacked the usual callousness. "Euphemia Black at last thrown from the Malfoy Manor and instead forced into the company of a mad man. I can not think of anything I want more."

Despite spending the majority of her life within the unwelcoming walls of Malfoy Manor, she adamantly agreed with Draco. Insanity may treat Euphemia kinder than the Manor ever had. She had been taken in as a ward by Narcissa and Lucius upon her father's imprisonment. Not due to their nurturing natures but instead due to them being one of the few Black families that have avoided Azkaban upon the end of the First Wizarding War. Alongside claiming to be acting under the Imperius curse, the couple took in the orphaned girl to demonstrate their good nature.

Yet Euphemia opted for a dry remark in reply instead of a tragic account of her upbringing as she stated, "More than it would please you to beat Potter to the snitch? I would recommend focusing on the game afoot and then on my downfall."

The boy's grin widened as he pathetically feigned pain. Momentarily clutching his healed arm before returning to his proper stance as he remarked, "Unless I succumb to my injuries from that wretched bird before then."

Euphemia found herself struggling to sympathise with the young boy. She had thought he would be wiser than to offend a creature as intensely proud as himself. Perhaps a scrap from a Hippogriff was needed to wound his unearned pride and replace it with some much needed common sense. Regardless of what she believed, it appeared the poor creature would pay the price for Draco's idiocy.

Instead of sympathising or antagonising the boy, she simply chooses to lightly tease as she replied, "one can hope."

The boy offered a light but genuine chuckle in response to the remark. The pair exchanged a glance that lacked affection but instead showed mutual understanding. The pair may have lacked love for each other, but that did not prevent an unspoken alliance from being formed. 

"Bloody hell Euphemia! We knew you were afraid of facing us on the quidditch pitch. Still, there was no need to get your father to try and break into our common room," Fred Weasley interrupted as he leaned over the bannister to meet the eyes of the dark-haired girl.

Euphemia's mind stuttered for a moment as she tried to process his words. The shock brought a quietness within her. A moment in which she felt her emotions change gear, and she girded the soul for what was to come. 

"What?" She eventually questioned, unable to mask the urgency in her tone. 

"Black got into the castle. Tried to get into the Gryffindor common room too, and now the Fat Lady has vanished," George explained, joining his twin in leering over the bannister. 

Without hesitation, Euphemia Black was on her feet. Her determination not deterred by the steep incline of the stairs she climbed. 

"Where are you going?" Draco demanded as he watched her go.

"To see for myself."

Euphemia Black dashed up the staircase. Her hand grazed the surface of the wooden bannister as her feet carried her upwards. She unmercifully pushed past the crowds who descended down the staircase. Unbothered by the spectators who ogled her as she ran. She remained undeterred from her goal. 

The Weasley twins had told the truth. The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait. What remained had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Euphemia felt no fear as she reached out and delicately traced the torn canvas. Her fingertip barely graced the surface as a sombre feeling overtook her.

"Did you have something to with this?" A voice questioned her.

Euphemia turned on her heels to face Oliver Wood. The burly seventh year and captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had always had a distinct dislike for the girl before him. Euphemia would like to categorise his hatred as the typical prejudice towards Slytherin, but the two shared an unpleasant history. 

The pair had both stepped onto the Quidditch pitch five years ago for their first match. Despite similar circumstances, the pair stood on opposing teams, Oliver Wood as the skilled Keeper and Euphemia Black, the unrivalled Beater. It was a two-minute match, at least for Oliver, who took a bludger to the head and was knocked unconscious. Despite winning the game, in sending that bludger soaring at Oliver, Euphemia had sacrificed the slim chance of civility between the pair.

"Random acts of vandalism are not really my style," Euphemia retorted with forced casualness, a pathetic attempt at appearing unbothered by his accusation.

Oliver Wood eyed the girl momentarily before his gaze shifted to the picture frame as whispers carried across the crowd. Euphemia Black heard her name numerous times, often accompanied by the words murderer or father. She refused to succumb to her initial vicious reaction; instead, she numbed herself. Oliver Wood attempted to push down the subtle feeling of guilt as he gazed past the young girl. He was aware his accusation was unjustified, but the words had slipped from his tongue as quickly as the gossip carried across the crowd of onlookers. He shared the same sombre expression as Euphemia as Remus Lupin approached the gathered audience. 

"I believe you have all been instructed to go to the Great Hall," Professor Lupin called as he walked in front of the portrait, blocking the spectator's view.

The crowd dispersed. Euphemia heard her name in hushed voices and whispered as the group descended towards the Great Hall. Oliver hovered momentarily. He searched for something to say, unsure whether he wished to offer comfort or further antagonise the girl. Instead, he followed after his fellow Gryffindor students wordlessly. 

"Miss Black. May I have a word?" Professor Lupin asked as he eyed the young girl who had failed to move.

Euphemia could only nod in response. She felt unsettled by the familiarity his gaze held and in his facial expression was tiredness, a need for nurture and a chance to rest. Although his face still extruded kindness. Regardless she remained cautious as she attempted to maintain a polite decorum.

"It has come to my attention you are rather talented within the Defence Against the Dark Arts," Lupin said as he watched her face for a reaction to the praise. The young girl merely offered nothing more than a demure smile, "To my understanding, this is consistent across all your classes?"

"I get by," Euphemia replied simply as false modesty dripped from each word.

"That seems like an oversimplification of your skill and ability. After last years incident, I am just pleased you have not only managed to maintain your ability but also surpass many of your classmates."

The Incident was a kind description of the pasted year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Gilderoy Lockhart, although a lacklustre teacher, was indisputably an admirable conman. He achieved bestseller status with his series of autobiographical books and a reputation as a world-class defender against the Dark Arts despite being overall an inept wizard. A charlatan and a fraud, yet Euphemia could respect his cunning. Few could have successfully maintained such arouse. Although after his year-long charade of teaching, he paid the price for his lies with his sanity. Being hit with a backfiring Memory Charm that forever erased his past. From what Euphemia had heard, he had since resided in the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"Lockhart may have not been a very skilled teacher, but he had no issue with my tendency to read in class. I supposed that would have required him to care about more than just his vanity. Luckily for me, the man seemed more intent of preening and peacocking his fame than teaching," Euphemia remarked, which earned a soft chuckle from her teacher, "regardless it allowed me to make a substantial dent into the Defence Against the Dark Arts section of the library."

"Well, now I feel as if I must apologise for my lessons cutting into your reading time."

"No need. I would much prefer to have a competent teacher," Euphemia said.

Competent was hardly a compliment, yet Remus Lupin could not help but smile. Partially due to the kindness being extended to him, something which his life had lacked for years and the familiar nature of the girl. Euphemia Black resembled her father in more than appearance. Her character mirrored the young man Lupin once knew. 

"I am glad. Unfortunately, I am still dealing with the aftermath of Gilderoy Lockhart's charade. Most of his students did not choose to utilise his class time as sensibly as you did and have unfortunately fallen behind," Lupin said as the young girl listened attentively, "I was hoping if you were willing, that you may be able to help me solve this problem."

"How so?"

"I believe starting a study club may be the best path. It would allow students to refresh of work that may have been missed in the previous year without redacting time from this years curriculum," Lupin explained, "I had hoped you would be willing to assist me."

"I do not know if I would be the best choice-"

"We both know that not to be true," Lupin interrupted with a knowing look before he continued in a hushed tone, "as a token of my appreciation for your assistance, I may be willing to sign off on you retrieving books from the restricted section of the library to further expand your learning."

Euphemia Black grinned. You required a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and those were hard to come by. The books held there contained powerful Dark Magic not taught within the school curriculum. Gaining access to that knowledge was made difficult for the average student, nevertheless the daughter of a mass-murderer. Any previous attempt Euphemia had made to access this section had failed, and now she was being offered potentially unlimited access. In short, it was an offer she could not refuse.

"It would be my pleasure to be of any assistance I can, Professor," Euphemia said.

Remus Lupin allowed a smile to extend across his features, which distorted his face. The scars that littered his skin pulled sharply across his features, further emphasising his overall ghastly appearance. Regardless Euphemia returned a soft smile in the form of a subtle quirk of her lips, not much, but it was genuine.


End file.
